by Lucy Vine
I need to get home and onto my emails immediately.
20
‘Looking good, Franny.’ I grin at her in the mirror and she winks back at me, wiggling her newly threaded and shaped HD brows.
‘What colour do you fancy, lip-wise?’ Gilly, the make-up artist, cocks her head, a very serious expression on her face.
Franny purses her lips, thinking about it. ‘Well now, Gilly,’ she says hopefully, ‘you wouldn’t happen to have any of the Kylie Jenner lip glosses, by any chance?’
‘Ooh, Franny, you know what, I think I do!’ Gilly looks delighted, her nose ring sparkling. ‘I confiscated one from my daughter this very morning. It’s been used once by a twelve-year-old – is that all right?’
She pulls a cherry red gloss out of her pocket and Franny delightedly snatches it off her. ‘This is perfect!’ she declares, handing it back and pouting carefully as Gilly applies it with precision.
‘Oh Gilly, I look absolutely wonderful,’ Franny sighs as the studio’s make-up artist stands back at last. ‘I could pass for your sister today, Delilah,’ she adds, climbing out of the tall chair and giving her blue hair a final swish for the mirror.
‘Um, I mean, maybe an older aunt,’ I say, a little miffed. ‘If someone wasn’t wearing their glasses and was looking from a long way away.’
Franny ignores me, making kissy faces at the mirror. I gesture for her to follow me. Time to join the rest of the Fuddy-Duddies.
Honestly, I still can’t believe this is really happening. We’re going on air in less than an hour and I’m nervous AF but also absolutely buzzing with energy and excitement. OK, sure, I’m also buzzing with a whole lot of what-the-hell-am-I-doing-this-is-all-going-to-go-horribly-wrong-isn’t-it. But it’s too late now to stop this train, so I might as well enjoy it.
We pass Calum Best in the hallway outside the green room and give him a nod. I wonder if he’s seen Joely yet today. Maybe they can finally make their faux-love work.
So here it is: the production team has been desperately trying for weeks to come up with an idea to add a little pizazz to Quiz Monster’s end-of-series live celebrity special. And we got nowhere. My researchers are all adorable geeks who think the clever questions they come up with are the only thing that matters on a quiz show (bullshit, guys, bullshit). All of Sam’s suggestions involved some form of slow, brutal death for the celebrities, which would’ve been entertaining, no doubt, but might have complicated things. Aslan was even less useful. After he finally stopped trying to charm his way out of helping, he admitted he just didn’t have any ideas. Which is fine. It’s not like it’s a big part of his job or anything. OH, WAIT, IT IS. And then, just when I was giving up hope and preparing to be fired, it hit me. Right in the middle of a Fuddy-Duddies United meeting.
Brainwave. Lightbulb.
A way to raise money for the club – to convince the council to keep us open – and also solve the show’s problem.
The next day I cornered Rex, took a deep breath and I pitched.
Fuddy-Duddies United vs celebrities, live on Quiz Monsters. A bunch of brainy old ladies with an offensively acronymed name, renowned for acing every pub quiz they’ve ever done, whose whole raison d’être is trivia. And a team captain who was once a member of Mensa. Them versus the likes of Calum Best and Professor Green. ‘Real people geniuses’ are very in right now on quiz shows, and the public love seeing a celebrity shown up on TV. Even better when it’s courtesy of a group of innocent-looking old ladies who are trying to raise money to keep their club alive. It’s a fun twist, and seemed like a possible combined solution to both my problems.
Rex loved it, said it was brilliant. He loves old ladies – they’re his staple fandom – and he said it was like Eggheads meets The Chase meets University Challenge. He was so enthusiastic he even insisted on coming along to our next FU meeting to break the news personally to the ladies. He barely got out alive.
Anyway, afterwards we had a bit of a chat. I told him that he needs to start using the runners and interns for things and treating me like the experienced professional assistant producer I am. I told him that I’m not going to be his dogsbody anymore. And because I was feeling extra brave, I told him he also had to stop speaking to me in such a patronising, insulting way.
And, weirdly, he said . . . no problem. He said he didn’t really give a crap who fetched his tea and booked his waxing appointments. He just thought I liked it. Thought I enjoyed the honour and privilege blah blah of being his personal assistant. Then he asked why I hadn’t said anything before.
I felt a bit stupid then. Why didn’t I say something sooner?
As Franny and I arrive back in the green room, I’m hit by a wall of nervous energy bouncing off the walls. Annabel is skipping on the spot, chatting animatedly to Ethel. Sam’s going from lady to lady, ferrying cups of tea and plates of Battenberg around. Franny joins them and they all excitedly ooh and aah over her glamorous new look. But, you know what? They all look great. I’ve never seen them so happy.
Although, is that . . . has Molly got a drawn-on beauty spot? Bloody hell. Might have to speak to Gilly about that, seems a bit excessive. She looks like she’s been dressed for a period drama.
Sam beams at me as she passes. ‘This is going to be so great,’ she whispers, offering me a slice of cake.
I take one, hoping she’s right.
Lauren and Joely are also around here somewhere. They volunteered to help with herding and babysitting the FU ladies, but last time I saw them was an hour ago over by the dressing rooms, chatting up the celebs. Lauren was asking for selfies, and Joely was explaining how she is ‘one of them’.
They seem happy, like nothing happened between us. Lauren hasn’t mentioned her wedding once today and when I asked her how things were going, she just smiled and said, ‘All fine. Pretty much sorted now. I’m finally sticking to my choices and Charlie’s actually been pitching in to help me at last.’ It feels like she’s learned some kind of major life lesson, but I hope we are still allowed to be included in these last bits of planning. I’d hate for her to think we don’t want to be involved or help at all. That’s not what I wanted.
I feel such a swell of satisfaction looking around the room at my ladies now. It’s funny, really. It seems like all I hear in the news lately is that different generations hate each other and have nothing in common. They’re pitted against each other, encouraged to blame each other for the world’s problems. They hate the way the other votes, they hate how they live their lives, they hate what they stand for. Millennials blame baby boomers for having all the money, and baby boomers blame millennials for wasting their lives on touch screen technology. But look at Sam laughing over there with Annabel right now. There’s easily fifty years between them, but they have so much in common. It’s amazing seeing these women helping each other, working together. It seems to me like we all need each other more than we ever have before. The world is a tiny bit fucked up at the moment, and this is when people need to lean on each other the most. I know saving my small club isn’t going to change the world, or help more than a few people. But maybe if I can keep Fuddy-Duddies United open, perhaps we can do more. We could expand the club, even make it nationwide. Encourage generations to get more interconnected.
Or maybe just sack off the Mother Teresa act and get them their own badass TV show! We could make it like Charlie’s Angels but in a quiz format and with old women?
A delighted-looking Franny springs over, fluttering her excessively long fake eyelashes at me.
‘How are you feeling?’ I say and she nods happily, pulling out the Kylie Jenner lip gloss she has stolen from Gilly.
‘Bloody excited, Delilah. I can’t believe you made all this happen. I’m so proud of you,’ she says, liberally applying and missing most of her top lip entirely. We might have to revisit Gilly en route to the set.
Sam comes over, the Battenberg is go
ne and her headset is on. ‘Ten minutes until show time, guys. Oh, Granny Franny, what have you done to your face? You’ve already been through make-up twice. Can you stop messing around?’
Franny giggles and Sam stomps off to find a tissue.
My grandma pulls me close and we lean on each other for a moment.
‘I mean it, my darling, I’m so proud of you.’ She sighs, holding my hand tightly. ‘You’ve done so well. And if this doesn’t save Fuddy-Duddies United, nothing will. Oh, and it’s nice to see your girls, Lauren and Joely, are here too, supporting you on your big day. I’m so glad you’ve made up. I know I called them dreadful bitches and I stand by that, but they are also very special. Although I’m not sure I’ve seen either of them actually do very much of anything today. They’re both still princesses, I suppose – good-hearted, but definitely princesses nonetheless.’
I smile and she tilts her head, looking kindly at me. ‘And what about the hen party, Lilah? Have you had any word about that yet?’
My stomach flips over and my chest squeezes. I open my mouth to explain but Sam is suddenly back with us, shooing Franny out of the room.
It’s time.
HERE WE FUCKING GO.
Wedding Number Twelve: Millie and Mazi, Church of St Mary, Surrey
Theme: Irish Catholic meets Nigerian, which means nothing, except a lot of bright colours and loud families.
Menu: Smoked salmon starter, followed by chicken and a meringue dessert. Veggie option: stuffed red pepper with goat’s cheese.
Gift: Coins in a Tesco carrier bag @ £20.
Gossip: The videographer caught the MIL slagging off the bride, who saw a rough edit a few days later. Bride now knows that her new mum thinks she is a ‘cunt’.
My bank balance: -£2045 (Friendly, non-threatening voicemail from the bank and letters from credit card companies I’m not going to read because they don’t count.)
21
‘Come on, you lot, keep up,’ I bark, feeling all authoritative. Some grumbles echo around behind me, but I ignore them, keeping my stride long and decisive.
I’m on such a high after Friday, I feel like I can take on anything. Rex was beaming with joy when I got to work this morning. The ratings were brilliant for the live show, and he’s had fantastic feedback on Twitter all weekend. Which is the main thing he cares about. That’s not to say everything went without a hitch. Truth be told, the whole thing was a nightmare and I spent most of the show peeking through my fingers and avoiding eye contact with my producer. But live stuff is always unpredictable and throw in a bunch of maverick TV-newbies – not to mention Granny Franny with her penchant for disobeying anything that sounds like an instruction – and things were bound to be a bit out of control. But the audience loved it! Especially when Franny detached her buzzer and lobbed it at Calum Best. And when Molly made Professor Green cry. Oh, and they really went nuts when Annabel sat on George Galloway’s lap and got him to purr. It was just great TV.
Rex leapt on me this morning when he got in, shouting that I was ‘bloody fantastic’. He says he wants me to lead all the brainstorming sessions for the next series – and he didn’t ask me to make him a coffee! Oh, and my producer has agreed to give me a raise. In fact, don’t tell Aslan, but I’ll be getting more than him – to ‘reflect my extra experience and compensate me for having previously been on less’. I’m even getting a series bonus. It means that I can consolidate my mess of credit cards and hopefully actually start paying them off. Maybe one day I’ll even crawl out of my overdraft.
I said one day, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Rex ordered me to take the rest of the day off, and said we can start working on the next series tomorrow.
I’m also on a massive high because GUYS, THE HEN DO IS GOING TO BE OK.
I didn’t think I could handle it, but I totally could. I am amazing and I can handle anything.
OK, maybe not anything. Actually, it was a pretty close call as to whether I could handle this. At all.
When I got home from prison/making up with the girls the other week, I panic-rang up all the Marbs venues to try to get our bookings back. But everyone was so unhelpful. They just kept saying they’d have to check, and that I’d probably lost everything. The bookings, the apartments, even the deposits. It was so so awful and I was so scared. I called Franny and cried a whole bunch (predictably). She calmed me down and reminded me that I’m totally one of the most organised people in the world and if I’ve learned anything in the last few months, it’s that I can stand up for myself and get shit done.
So I did.
I called them all back and refused to get off the phone until it was sorted. I was nice, I was horrible, I was generous, I was threatening. I threw in Joely’s name and, when that didn’t work, I promised Rex Powers would tweet something nice about them all.
(He owes me one.)
(And I have his Twitter password in case he says no.)
And it worked. I was still waiting to hear from the final place on Friday, but it’s all OK. I have my itinerary and confirmations all there, in black and white, on my email. It’s on. It’s really happening. Honestly, I’m still sweaty with relief. Thank God, really. The idea of having to tell the hens it was all off . . . it still makes me feel wobbly. They didn’t even know anything was wrong and they never will. They don’t know I fell out with the bride and they have no clue they were on the verge of losing their holiday – not to mention their money. I am so happy I haven’t ruined this. I think it’s going to be brilliant. I hope it is.
I sent out a quick WhatsApp to the ten remaining hens this morning, which was obviously a giant-ass mistake.
Lilah Fox created group ‘MARBS HEN DO’
Lilah Fox added 10 names
Lilah Fox: Hey everyone, Lilah here. I’ve set up this WhatsApp group so we can stay in touch and all start getting EXCITED for the hen doooooo! I can’t wait. Everything is confirmed, and you all have the itinerary in your email inbox. Sooo, that’s it! See you at the airport on the 5th. WAH!
Lilah Fox: PS. Is everyone following @BestWeddingEverCharlieLovesLauren on Instagram? Please do!
Joely Bolt: YAY. Thanks Lilah, you’re my hero.
Simone Sweets: Can’t wait!
Katie Jacks: Sooooooo excited!
Katie Jacks: Sooooooo excited!
Katie Jacks: Sooooooo excited!
Katie Jacks: Sooooooo excited!
Joely Bolt: No, Katie, NO. STOP IT.
Simone Sweets: I also have an exciting investment opportunity I’d like to talk to you all about while we’re out there.
Katie Jacks: Lol wait what?
Joely Bolt: DON’T DO THAT AGAIN.
Simone Sweets: Are you talking to me?
Simone Sweets: It’s an amazing opportunity, I promise. Going to get my whole trust fund back, and you’ll all make loads of money.
Katie Jacks: Sooooooo excited!
Carlie Hodkins: HOW DID YOU PEOPLE GET MY PHONE NUMBER?
Carlie Hodkins has left the group
Katie Jacks: Sooooooo excited!
Katie Jacks: Sooooooo excited!
Joely Bolt has left the group
Lilah Fox added Joely Bolt to the group
Joely Bolt: Fuck you Lilah.
Katie Jacks: Lol wait what?
Katie Jacks: Lol lol lol why’d you leave Joely??? Also, I’m not on Instagram?????? Should I join???? I can follow it on Twitter????? Lol.
Simone Sweets: I’m just going into the gym, abs day lol. What’s everyone else up to?
Katie Jacks: Lol lol just heading to Marks and Sparks for some yum yums for dindins lol.
Joely Bolt has left the group
Lilah Fox added Joely Bolt to the group
And so it went on. Three hours later and I can still feel my phone buzzing against my bum with messages.
/> But never mind that, because I’m here to take care of some mo’ bid-nizz. We’re on our way to see Mr Canid, because enough’s enough – I need to speak to him face to face. We’ve had enough angry chats on the phone, and he’s ignored my emails, so it’s time to face the dickhead down. Look him square in his podgy eyes and tell him he’s a podgy-eyed dick-toilet. Or maybe something less likely to get us thrown out. Either way, it is ON and I’m raring to go. I’ve got a speech and everything.
Because now we have leverage. We’re not just a small group of confused old ladies with their pushover token youth – now we’re a small group of confused old ladies with their not-going-to-take-your-shit token youth and the support of the nation. The Quiz Monster special wasn’t just a success ratings-wise. We told the audience about the council trying to knock down our building and how we have nowhere else to go. We told them about the work we do in the community and how much we want to stay together. It’s been incredible. We’ve had the most unbelievable outpouring of support and donations, from all corners of the country. #SaveFuddyDuddiesUnited was actually trending on Twitter! For maybe four seconds, but it still counts. And the most important messages of love have been from our local area. We heard from people we’ve met as a group over the years, people we’ve helped, and people we now desperately want to help if we’re allowed to continue. Everyone was so nice and encouraging, and donated whatever they could. It’s proof that we’re needed and wanted. I’ve spent the whole weekend trying not to do that Sally Field speech, but sod it: